


Reality

by poppetawoppet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Imaginary Friends, Mental Instability, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the gameison_sh cycle three, round 2:make one change</p><p>In which John Watson is not real</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality

Lestrade looks up at the nurse.

"He's awake. He's asking for you, apparently."

Lestrade nods. There is no one else here. Mycroft is one of the small African countries, trying to get a flight home. Mrs. Hudson is tucked in bed, still unaware of the events at the pool. Sherlock lives, so she can be told in the morning.

Lestrade nods at the nurse, and follows her down the hallway. There are muted whispers and the varied sounds of machines, and little laughter. 

"He's asking for someone else. A John Watson."

"I know."

The nurse looks at him, expecting something more. But Lestrade doesn't want to speak of it to a stranger. He barely speaks of it to anyone. It's an issue they are all skirting around.

If Donovan were here, she might have said something. If nothing else, she is not afraid of the harsh truth. But Lestrade has left her in charge of cleaning up. Of counting bodies. Sherlock doesn't need harsh truths.

Not that he's listened when they've been given before.

"Lestrade," Sherlock croaks. "I may have gotten into something a little sticky."

Lestrade can't help but smile a bit. "I see. What happened."

"He kidnapped John. Put explosives on him. He wanted to talk. And then he left. And then he came back to kill us. So I blew him up."

"Is that so?"

"Silly of me, thinking I was invincible."

"Yes. But the doctor says you should live, granted you give yourself a good rest."

"That's nice. I suppose I deserve a vacation."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. I suppose I'll let John choose something for me. It'll probably be dull, but I'll get rest."

"Sherlock…"

"What?"

Lestrade sighs. He's known Sherlock for years now, but he's never been able to sway him on anything. But he has to now. Otherwise, the delicate situation will collapse on itself.

"Lestrade, is John okay? I made sure to cover his body, so he must be okay. Unless he tried to be a hero. I suspect he probably did."

"No. No heroics, Sherlock."

"Good. Then why isn't he here?"

Lestrade looks at Sherlock. He should just tell a lie, and get it over with. But he cannot.

"You know why he isn't here Sherlock. We've talked about this before. John isn't real."

Sherlock blinks, and then shakes his head slightly.

"Oh. I keep forgetting, don't I?"

Lestrade nods. "I've already called your psychiatrist. He'll talk to you in the morning."

"I don't want to go back to the hospital. I want to keep working with you."

"Don't worry."

"Lestrade, I really… I really thought he was there."

"I know."

"Maybe I should go back to the hospital."

"We'll see. Get some rest."

Lestrade closes the door behind him and goes back into the waiting room. He has lied a little. He hasn't called the psychiatrist yet. Sherlock has been so instrumental in so many cases. But Lestrade knows it's only a matter of time before the imaginary people become so real, that Sherlock will do something very stupid.

He pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number.

"Hello, Dr. Watson. Yes, it's me, Lestrade. Yes, this is about Sherlock."


End file.
